Another Problem With America: We Confuse Popular With Good

 

I don’t Google. Partly because Google is so pervasive, taking over most aspects of life online, but mostly because Google is not a verb.

I use a search engine called Swagbucks, which rewards users with Swagbucks (duh!) that can be saved up and used to buy stuff, everything from a computer wallpaper of Cage The Elephant (just 5 Swagbucks) to a new scale for the bathroom (6,795 Swagbucks) or full drum kit, with cymbals (37,825). All I ever buy are $5 Amazon gift cards for 450 Swagbucks.

 

Anyway, one way to earn Swagbucks is by answering the daily poll. One recent poll asked:

Which of these decades had the best music?

The results, I'm sad to say, are in the above chart.

What this means is, either it was opposite day when this survey appeared, or it was Moron Day, and 81 percent of these people have been nominated grand marshal of the parade.

As anyone older than 14 knows, the only truly great decade for music was the 1960s, starting with the Everly Brothers, Cathy’s Clown, through the Beach Boys, Good Vibrations, and Aretha Franklin, Respect, to Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bad Moon Rising.

The last half of the 1950s was good, what with Elvis and Chuck Berry and Ricky Nelson and Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly, et al, but the first half was pretty lame. Patty Page, The Tennessee Waltz? C’mon.

Dozens of songs like Unchained Melody and Stand By Me and Hey Jude have proven that they will still be listened to and appreciated 50 years later. You just can’t say that about Lady Ga Ga and Justin Bieber. Does anyone even remember the Thompson Twins?

Liverpool Legends (Another Living Legend That Will Live Long After Lots Of Other Living Legends Have Died)

 

 

Kelly and I have seen the Liverpool Legends three times, and we both agree that their show is excellent. If the Beatles would have had modern concert equipment, this is what they would have sounded like live.

 

What makes them stand out from other Beatles tribute groups is the presence of Louise Harrison, George’s sister. She put the group together, and often sits on stage during intermission answering questions.

 

If you get the chance to see them, either in Branson or as they tour, take it.

 

 

 

That's right - Paul, John, George, Ringo, together again.

* I stole the "Living legends..." line in the title from Eric Idle in The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash.

Shirt Happens, I Guess

From a trip to Memphis. I love Memphis.

Can a guy have too many t-shirts?

A gift from Kelly.

I used to tease Kelly because she had 97 sweaters, but not now. One, she gave away many of her sweaters, and two, when I swapped winter clothes for summer clothes, my t-shirts didn’t all fit in my closet. Somehow I have 80 short-sleeved t-shirts and about a dozen with long sleeves. That seems like a lot.

I've seen the Everly Brothers live five times, and
named one child after them.

It is faded, but this one is autographed by Kristen Schlukebir.

To be fair, like Kelly and her sweaters, many of these shirts I’ve had more than 25 years. Several  were freebies from the blood center, where I’ve donate every eight weeks. Most are from discount racks and flea markets, because I don’t like paying more than $3 for a shirt. Quite a few were gifts. Some I wear just for sleeping, some I’ve never worn.

Being the Best Dad is easy when you have the best kids.

Some of the ones I don’t wear are my most prized, but I think I’ve made a mistake. For example, two of the girls were summering in another state on Father’s Day, so they sent this shirt with their hand prints on it, and two sisters added theirs. I was so proud I wanted to keep it forever, so rather than wearing it, it’s been in the back of my closet since 2005.

One of my favorite live bands, unfortunately disbanded.

The same for one of my Big Smith shirts. My son Bradley and I bought it together at one of their shows, but neither of us ever wore it. I finally put it on for one of the band’s last concerts, and now wear it regularly. Of course, when you have 80 shirts, regular doesn’t necessarily mean often.

December 8, 1990

Some of my favorite shirts have come from the John Lennon tribute concerts we have in our town, like this one that has an original image drawn by Lennon and used with Yoko’s permission. I guess I had 10 or so Lennon shirts, but I wore them out.

Lou Brock is my favorite of all time, Ozzie is high on the list.

So what would you do in my position? Would you cull some of the shirts, and if so, how would you decide which to give away?

My wife and two daughtes are listed on back.

Or are you in my position? Do you have a bunch of shirts you love but don’t wear? Do you have just a few that you wear out?

A cool gift from Libby.

I would like to know.

Thrift Stores And Album Art, My Only Vices

I’m a nearly perfect husband. I squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom, I don’t leave clothes on the floor, and I never, ever leave the toilet seat up. With 7 daughters, I dare not.

I don’t have many vices, either. Not counting chocolate, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, and Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudge Crunch, I have only two vices.

Thrift stores/flea markets are one of my favorite pastimes, a hobby my wife, Kelly, taught me to appreciate. I am amazed and amused by the relentless shelves and stacks and piles of stuff, some of it rare, some of it valuable and useful, much of it worthless, and all of it interesting.

VHS tapes used to be my focus, as Kelly and I loved to find a romantic comedy for $1, get take out sweet and sour chicken, then snuggle up in front of the couch when the kids weren’t home.

Now, with Netflix, we don’t need VHS tapes, so I focus on books and vinyl albums when we go thrifting. Actually, I just look for album covers. I have all the music I want on CD and iTunes. I don’t have a turntable, so I’ve never listened to any of the albums in my collection.

I am pretty choosy about what albums I add, with 3 main criteria:

• I only buy albums that are significant to me, meaning they were something I listened to as a younger person.

• I only buy albums that have artwork that I like, and deem worthy to put in a frame and hang on my wall.

• I only buy albums that don’t cost much, $2 or $3, with a rare $5 splurge.

My most recent addition is Chet Atkins Picks on the Beatles. Mr. Atkins, CGP is one of the most talented and prolific musicians ever, and, of course, I’m a big Beatles fan. The sleeve notes on the back by George Harrison are funny.

Other recent purchases are the Everly Brothers (I named one of my children after them, that’s how much I like the Everly Brothers), Rick Nelson, and Fleetwood Mac.

Still others that I have yet to get around to framing are Monty Python, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Harry Nilsson, Paul McCartney and Wings, Young Frankenstein (“what magnificent knockers”), and the Smothers Brothers.

If you had to pick 5 favorite album covers to put on your wall, what would they be?

Where Did This Old Man In My House Come From?

I don't know whether I'm getting mixed signals or sending them.

I drove our sporty red Jeep Wrangler the other day, listening to the end of a book on CD. Reluctantly, I flipped stations on the radio, finally settling on Only Yesterday by Karen Carpenter. The familiar lines about pain and waiting and hope made me cry.

Then there was a commercial for a place selling catheters. I was probably the only man in town driving a cool Jeep and crying to the Carpenters, wondering whether 200 catheters a month was an ample supply.

I call my wife the "hot chick in a red Jeep," which she is, but suddenly I've become the guy who watches the Weather Channel and wonders if one of those Medical Alert devices is a good idea.

Somehow, I’m eligible for a discount at iHop, but I’m too tired to go. Carry-out Chinese and a Meg Ryan DVD appeal far more than a night on the town.

I wear sweater vests at work, not because they are so good looking, but because I get cold during the day. For some reason, the television is much too loud when someone turns it on after me.

How has this happened?

I still listen to The Beatles and watch Monty Python's Flying Circus. I still play basketball and a little tennis.

I still dance with my wife in the kitchen, and with my granddaughter all over the house. I still wear Levi's and Converse All Stars, lime green, no less, so I wonder how this has happened.

Where did this old man in my house come from?